


Yet Again

by Mimnerme1860



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (Aside from the AU Character Relationships), Abusive Relationships, Ancient History of Eos, Canon Compliant, Flashbacks, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Reincarnation, Sexual Harassment, Thees and Thous, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-23 01:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14321445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimnerme1860/pseuds/Mimnerme1860
Summary: Two thousand years ago, Ardyn's best friend and lover was murdered in a tragedy that cost Ardyn the throne and altered the course of Eos' history.Now, as Ardyn readies the chain of events that will finally end his life, his lover is reborn as an infant destined for the Empire's MT program. Ardyn wants nothing more than to to save him, to spend what time he has left with him...and then to die with him.But when Prompto fails to remember anything of his previous life, Ardyn will stop at nothing to remind him of their past, even if it means robbing the world of its future.Based on a prompt from the FFXV Kinkmeme.





	Yet Again

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by this prompt (https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/841.html?thread=276809) over at the FFXV kinkmeme. Buckle up, this is going to be a bit of a trip.

Ardyn felt the very moment that Mercure returned to the world. He experienced Mercure’s first breath in two thousand years as if it were he who had suddenly returned to life. It was freedom; it was ecstasy. He fell to the floor sobbing as the feeling arrived, and began to scream after it was suddenly wrested from him again. He spent hours there, shaking with the shock of a loss that had been unimaginable just that morning, until he had gathered his wits, contained his daemons, and realized that he could still feel the hint of Mercure’s presence brushing at the very edges of his awareness. In the scheme of this life he’s led for millennia, having wasted a few paltry hours would be of no concern, a misstep hardly worthy of his attention. But now that Mercure was returned, spending even such a brief time without him was unconscionable. Ardyn stood, steeled himself with a deep breath, and set about finding a man he’d never thought to see alive again.

Locating the child that would grow to house Mercure’s soul was not so simple as the elite post he had plotted for so long to gain ought to have made it. He of course knew the date of the child’s birth, and that he had been born somewhere in Gralea; but the Magitek program’s vastly increased rate of production had outstripped what Niflheim’s bureaucracy could match. Hundreds of children, Ardyn learned, were produced— _born,_ Mercure had been _reborn,_ not produced—for the program each month, and while most received proper documentation of birth and citizenship, the occasional few did not. Seeking those who had fallen through the cracks, he visited every nursery, every laboratory to which his not inconsiderable privilege granted him access, knowing instinctively that all he would need was to look upon the face of this fated child to _know_. But for months on end, he searched in vain.

It became apparent that this child—along with perhaps all of the children who had not received documentation—was being hidden either from him or from the entire Empire; in any case, the effects were the same. The list of people who might be capable of such a deception was short, of those who might dare to do so even shorter. It required no great leaps of logic to determine that Besithia was the most likely culprit. And so, nearly four months after he felt the world shift beneath his feet, Ardyn Izunia paid a visit to his erstwhile research companion.

“Verstael Besithia,” he drawled as he entered the room unannounced. “I do believe you’ve been keeping something from me.”

Besithia was a clever man—had to be, to have survived so long in Niflheim’s Imperial Court. Ardyn watched as that cleverness drew a veneer of accommodating professionalism over his instinctive suspicion. Besithia moved gradually towards a cluster of lab assistants frozen nearby, as though they might offer him some protection from the chancellor’s thunderous presence. Knowing the scientist as he did, would not be surprised if the assistants were themselves some breed of MT, designed to aid Besithia in his work and to defend it when necessary. Stranger things had happened in these labs.

“Chancellor Izunia,” Besithia began, “you know that the labs are always open to you! I assure you, if there was any piece of relevant information that failed to find its way to you, it was not intentional. Rather, such a case would certainly be nothing more than a mere failure of communication. After all, we are working to approach full automation in our communication of data and updates. In these early stages, there will of course be information that simply…slips through the cracks.”

“Quite an eloquent excuse you’ve concocted, Verstael. One might almost think you had rehearsed it.”

Verstael blanched, and moved closer to the lab technicians, who did their best to appear not to be listening. “And what information precisely do you suppose you are missing? The next report on the progress of the MT battalions will be ready—“

“On the twenty-fifth of October in the year 736, a child was born. A child whom I have been seeking. But no record of this child exists, and so his present location has been impossible for me to determine. That, Verstael, is the information that I lack.”

“You’re seeking a child?” Besithia echoed. “Pardon my confusion, Chancellor, but surely a man of your stature would have no issue finding suitable candidates for adoption, children who already have papers—”

“You misunderstand me. I am seeking one child in particular—a child that I suspect you have had a hand in hiding from me. And so I ask you again: where is the child born on the twenty-fifth of October, 756, and why have you hidden him from me?”

In the tense silence of the room, Besithia’s blank face slowly broke into a smile, a distinctly forced laugh. “I suppose I should have known better than to try to surprise you. Come with me to my private office. The rest of you may leave,” he said, giving a signal to the scientists. They rushed from the room as if programmed to do so. “I must say, I did not anticipate that news of this project would leak so soon. I had thought to have several years to prepare it before presenting it to Your Eminence and the other members of the Council. But I suppose you have your ways, haven’t you, old friend?” Ardyn maintained his silence, allowing Besithia to ensnare himself more tightly in the web of lies he was spinning as he struggled to escape.

“I doubt I need to tell you that your techniques for developing MTs were epoch-making, a true godsend for both science and the Empire,” the researcher explained as he led the way to his office. “But even given how advanced they are, there are nonetheless problems with their implementation. For instance, many of our test subjects did not take well to the daemon genes, and transformed into beasts almost immediately upon exposure. Such a waste of resources is hardly justifiable, to say nothing of what was lost upon the creatures’ inevitable rampages,” he continued, punching numbers into a keypad hidden in his desk. “I have been working tirelessly to develop alternative solutions, effective ways to harness the power of MTs without the dangerous side-effects. It took me years of testing to come up with an effective alternative, but now I have finally developed a treatment program that is safe for testing. The child that you seek—he is the first prototype of the new process.” Having finished entering the code into the keypad, Besithia finally turned to open the door newly revealed from behind a bookshelf. “I call him Prompto.”

Ardyn saw a child—no, an infant—floating in a vat of green fluid _green soothing light engulfs his body as blue eyes fill his gaze,_ a breathing tube forced into its mouth _his mouth twisted with amusement opened wide in panic,_ its tiny fingers slowly opened and closed around nothing _Ardyn’s fingers entwined with his like roots in soil,_ its shockingly alert blue eyes tracked Besithia’s movements _his eyes were shockingly vacant as he bled out he was bleeding and Ardyn could do nothing to stop it and Izunia would have to_ pay _—_

Ardyn ripped his eyes away from the room’s grisly centerpiece, steadying himself against the wall as Besithia rattled on about his unprecedented successes, unaware of the Chancellor’s discomfort. Through the bile of nausea, through the howling of the daemons who even after so many centuries recognized this infant as _enemy,_ Ardyn asked: “And whose child was so fortunate to have been chosen to participate in this—this shining example of scientific progress?”

Verstael smiled. “Ah. I fear I must confess that in this, I have allowed myself a small vanity. Prompto will one day become my greatest creation—it is only fitting that his source should be my own flesh and blood. He is my son, and he shall be my greatest legacy.”

As Ardyn fought back against another wave of disgust, he distantly registered his own shock at still being able to experience such a strong emotion. But then, Mercure had always brought out such strong reactions in him. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you would think to turn even your own son into an MT.”

“Not an MT—never an MT,” Besithia corrected, his vainglorious face bathed in the sickly green light of the vat. “He will be so much more than that.”

“Yes,” Ardyn agreed, “indeed he will.” Then, moving more quickly than the scientist’s myopic eyes could track, he pulled Besithia away from Mercure and pinned him to the wall of the lab with a long, thin blade he pulled from the Armiger for the first time in two thousand years. The scientist screamed in pain, then howled as Ardyn leaned closer, using his weight to push the blade deeper into his traitorous flesh. Besithia fell silent as he gazed in terror at Ardyn, who could feel the daemons within him rising up to paint his features in necrotic black. “Now I want you to listen to me very carefully, Verstael, lest I be forced to destroy your research entirely. I would threaten your wife and daughter as well if I thought it would have an effect, but I realize now that you care for nothing outside of these walls. You are going to suspend this little side-project of yours, effective immediately, and forget that you ever conceived of it. When you awake, your test subject will be gone. Under no circumstances are you to search for him. Furthermore, the equipment in this room will have been destroyed. You are not to reconstruct it. If I find that you have reneged on this promise, I will tell the Emperor about this top-secret project you designed to turn your son into a potentially regime-shifting superpower. Have I made myself clear?”

“You—you can’t do this!” Besithia protested, his face turning a satisfying purple. “I’ve worked too long—”

“On the contrary, Doctor Besithia, I think you’ll find that I can do whatever I please.” At that moment, Ardyn released a pulse of dark energy, knocking the good doctor unconscious. He let him hang from his blade for a moment before dismissing it, sending the Besithia toppling to the floor.

He turned once more to the infant _his only friend his only love,_ placing his hand _reaching out fruitlessly straining_ against the glass that contained it. He rested his forehead against the tank, releasing a shocked breath. The infant tried to reach towards him, its tiny arms waving through the liquid, its too-bright eyes fixed on his. “Well, here we are again, my friend. Two thousand years on this accursed planet, and still thou findst ways to surprise me.” He chuckled. “Thou may’st be the death of me, yet.”


End file.
